


Out of the Dark

by lunar47



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunar47/pseuds/lunar47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A devastated Morgana wanders aimlessly until someone from her past comes to find her. Immediately follows the events in 3x13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Dark

_April is the cruellest month, breeding_  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
Memory and desire, stirring  
Dull roots with spring rain.  
(T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land")

Morgana can not recount how long she sat on the dank floor of the cave opening, Morgause’s lifeless body resting peacefully in her lap. She runs her pale hands through her sister’s silky blond hair, pushing it back from her bruised and bloodied face. The witch’s tears had long since dried, and her immediate anger had burned itself out, until all that was left was a dead hollow in her core. 

Rain pours down and echoes along the cave. It’s the only thing reminding Morgana that she is still connected to this earth, that she too isn’t dead. _A pity really, some would think._

Hours pass and the rain stops. The sun peaks through the clouds and warms Morgana’s chilled face. She places a chaste kiss on Morgause’s lips and moves her sister’s body off her lap and on to the rocky floor. 

She does not know where to go or who to seek out. Cenred is dead, his kingdom in ruins. She has no real allies amongst the Druids. Not anymore at least. So she walks aimlessly through the forest, wet leaves and twigs coating the ends of her velvet red dress. 

There’s a path up ahead and she recognizes where it leads. It’s a place she has ridden to often in her years at Camelot; a clearing where the flowers grow wild in the spring, where lovers go to consummate their passions, where kings look upon Camelot with pride. 

All she sees is death and betrayal as she sinks down on her knees. She shivers as a fiery ember of hate begins to burn in her once more. Sliding her hands into the cold sticky mud she releases some of that energy. The flowers, once blooming bright with life, wilt and shrivel under her magical touch. Evil spreads until the whole field is black with her despair. 

_You are not lost Morgana._

A soft voice startles her and she turns to face a small boy.

"Mordred" Her voice comes out shaky and hoarse, the first word spoken in a day. 

The boy smiles and holds out his hands to her. She clasps them in her own and trusts him to lead her out of the darkness.


End file.
